Home
by x-iAmCannibal
Summary: The sort that's spelt with a capital 'H'. - Carla thinks her world has fallen to pieces when she and her brother are taken into care, but she meets someone who sticks them back together again. However, can that someone repair the damage done when a cruel, twisted mind takes everything away from her? - Carter pairing.
1. Chapter 1

Home.

_A/N – This is very AU. Fifteen year old Carla and her younger brother Darren have had to be taken to care, after their mum, due to her drug problem, is no longer capable of looking after them. I'm including Frank in this fic, who is going to be her head care worker, and I'm also borrowing Peter, you'll see where he fits in as you read. It's rated T so far for future language use, but I might change it to M later on when I tackle very sensitive issues, just to warn. I don't really want to give much of the story away, but it's going to be a 'Carter' pairing. Anyway, enjoy…_

Carla dragged her feet as she trudged along the path, wanting to delay the process for as long as possible. Darren, her little brother, was clinging onto her hand, even he seemed quiet. He was glancing up at the large house with wide eyes, it was a far cry from the poky drug pit they lived in.

_Used _to live in. She supposed it was inevitable that someone would come for them. It wouldn't have gone unnoticed any longer, turning up to school with creased uniforms, dirty uniforms, though Carla had tried her best, washing them by hand in the sink when they had no heating or electric. Realistically, Carla knew there was no way either of them could have carried on living there. And that was without the violence that came with her mums habit. She was spiralling further and further into debt, and Carla was used to fellas pitching up and taking things away. First money, then when that ran out the TV, and then jewellery and watches and anything else they had that might raise a few pence. Carla had worked, but a few hours after school at the corner shop wasn't enough to run the house as well as making up her mum's money, and Carla had soon given up. She'd started hiding her money, using it to make sure neither her or Darren went hungry or dirty, and she thought she'd been doing an okay job of it. But the school had soon picked up on the signs of neglect and the changes in Darren's behaviour, when the toy he was playing with was taken by one of the bigger boys, so Darren had grabbed his arm and bit him. They couldn't get in contact with Carla's mother to talk about the incident, they didn't have a land line. It wasn't long before they started to poke about, eventually involving the social.

They only had to look at the state of the house, the dirty walls, bare floors littered with used needles, the lack of furniture, electricity, heating and, by this point, running water, before whisking both Darren and Carla into a shiny, black car and driving them away.

So here they were, the sort of Home that starts with a capital 'H'. The Home where the forgotten kids are sent, the unwanted kids, the kids no one gives a crap about.

"Come on, it's not that bad, honestly. You'll soon settle in, your rooms are already sorted." Carla had forgotten the man's name already. He'd said he was head worker, and he looked every bit the boss. A crisp gray suit and polished shoes, brown hair neatly cut and not a single strand out of place. He gave Carla a smile, his eyes creasing at the corners. She wasn't sure why, but she felt there was something odd about the way he was looking at her, as if he was staring all too intently. But she shrugged it off. Maybe she just wasn't used to people smiling at her.

He opened the door and gestured for them to go in first. With hesitation, Carla stepped through into the house, Darren close at her heels. She could hear noise, noise from almost every room of the house. Music, chatter, laughter, singing, shouting. Not the shouting she was used to though. The happy voices were completely different to the usual rows and arguments that came with any raised voice back where she'd been taken away from.

"Frank!" Oh, that was his name. Carla remembered now. A little boy had suddenly appeared from the doorway of one off the rooms leading off the hallway. He had wispy blonde hair and big blue eyes, a large plastic yellow tractor in one hand, and a matching red one in the other.

"Hello, Charlie." Frank smiled, nodding at the small boy in greeting. "What're you up to, then?"

"I'm playing tractors. I want to make a ramp for them, but I don't know how and Peter's busy making tea so he can't help me." Charlie huffed, before clapping eyes on Darren, giving him a wide grin.

"Hello! Have you come to live here?" He asked, enthusiastically, to which Darren gave a small, shy nod and clutched Carla's hand a little tighter.

"Do you like tractors?" Charlie skipped up to where Darren was standing, who again, nodded. Carla vaguely remembers a few of Darren's old toys, but they were long since broken. He hadn't had anymore, apart from a few small plastic cars which Carla had bought him a few months ago, finding it wrong that a boy as young as Darren was deprived of any toys. They'd not cost much, a few pounds, and even that had meant that Carla had gone without school dinner money for two days, but it had been worth it to watch his face light up when she'd given them to him.

"You can come and play with me if you want? Maybe you can help me build a ramp for them and we can race them? Which colour do you want?"

"Red's my favourite colour." Darren spoke quietly, though Carla could tell he was eager to accept Charlie's offer. Instantly, Charlie handed the red tractor over to Darren and pointed to the room he'd just come from. "We'll play in there, there's more space, everyone else it watching TV, but it's only boring music."

Darren looked up to Carla, who gave him a reassuring smile and let go of his hand, allowing him to follow Charlie. It seemed Darren had a friend already, though Carla knew it wouldn't be the same for her. She didn't want to be there, but she knew she couldn't go back home. She felt lost, like she belonged nowhere.

"There, see, he'll settle in no time." Frank told her, cheerily. "Come on, I'll show you up to your room."

Carla had to admit, this room was a lot bigger than the one she had back home. But it was bare, and unfamiliar. The walls were cream and the carpet a very washed out looking pink. There was a single, silver framed bed, a mirrored wardrobe and a small bedside table with a lamp. Everything looked clean and looked after, unlike the chipped, wooden furniture in her own room, or the cracked mirror that hung on her wall. As far as bedrooms went, this one had the potential to be turned into something decent. But all Carla felt like doing was bursting into tears.

"I'll leave you to get sorted. Darren's room is just across from yours, I'll go and put his belongings in there and show him around later. You're more than welcome to have a wander around and feel free to come and find me if there's anything you need. You'll be meeting with your mentor shortly so please don't feel that I'm leaving you in the lurch."

"My what?" Carla frowned, slowly walking over to the bed. She sank down into the soft mattress, letting her bag fall to the carpet with a muffled thud.

"Your mentor, or key worker. There's a lot of children here, and it's hard for one person to keep track of everyone's needs. I'm the head worker, so you'll see me around, but I'm usually cooped up in the office or out in meetings. We've got three other careworkers and they've all got certain children who are sort of 'theirs'. Basically, when we have someone new come to stay with us, we'll introduce you to your mentor, and they're the person who will get to know you, bond with you and give you guidance and support. Of course, you can come to anyone of us for support, we're all like one family, here, we help eachother, but the idea of your mentor is that you've got someone who you're familiar with, someone who knows you, so you might be more comfortable approaching them."

"I think I've got that. So, who's my mentor?" Carla was still quite stony, she didn't want to give up her tough act. She'd not uttered a word when Frank had come to take them away, she'd simply shrugged and ushered Darren into the car like she couldn't care less. Although, she wanted to scream at her mum for letting them go, for not begging to keep them and promising that she'd try harder. It was obvious she didn't give two hoots.

"Both you and Darren will probably have Peter. He's quite new, too. He's only been with us a few months, but he's brilliant. I think you'll get along just fine with him."

Again, Carla shrugged. She didn't reply as Frank bade her goodbye, and merely watched him disappear from her room. Carla gave it around ten seconds after he'd closed the door before curling up in the middle of her new bed and letting out a strangled sob, bringing her knees up to her chin.

She was forced to live in this strange house with strange people, and her druggie mum had practically given them away. It had all gone downhill so fast. And what about her friends at school? Suzie, Michelle, Luke, Liam? How was she going to tell them? How would her class react to her being in care? How was she ever going to live this one down?


	2. Chapter 2

It was only when Carla opened her eyes that she realised she'd fallen asleep. The room was dark, and it took a few moments for everything to come flooding back to her, her heart sinking once more as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings, only just able to make them out. She felt around for the switch on the lamp and flicked it on, blinking as her eyes became adjusted to the light. The first thing she noticed was that someone had been in her room. There was a small tray beside the lamp, which held a sandwich, a bag of crisps and an apple. Leaning closer, Carla saw a small square of paper, a note written across in untidy pencil scrawl.

_Hi, Carla! I came to get you for tea, but I didn't want to wake you. I hope we can meet properly, later. _

_-Peter. _

He'd squiggled a little cartoon face beside the note, with a wide, daft grin. Carla felt the corners of her mouth twitch, though quickly reminded herself where she was. Whoever this Peter was, he was paid to make her feel welcome.

She wrinkled her nose at the glass of water that had been placed on the tray. Truth be told, what she really fancied was a hot drink. She checked the watch on her wrist, the one she'd hid down her bra everytime the house was raided, and saw that it was just after one in the morning. She can't remember feeling so tired, but then again, she can't remember being able to fall to sleep without being worried that someone was going to kick their door in and demand payment. She could hate this Home with every fibre of her being, but she couldn't deny that in a way, she'd escaped the torment at home. It was finally over. She wouldn't have to try and mother Darren, or jump everytime the door went, or worry about how she was going to provide their next meal or next clean uniform.

She can't remember whether she'd packed her school uniform or not, she'd not really been paying much attention. She'd felt numb as she'd tipped all of her belongings into one bag not twelve hours earlier. It was still on the floor, with her having fallen to sleep before she'd had time to unpack it. Rummaging through it now, she pulled out a pink pyjama shorts set. They were old and the red heart print pattern was slightly faded on them now, but affording new one's had been the last thing on Carla's mind, as well as being out of the question.

She quickly shed the jeans and top she had been wearing, and stepped into the shorts before pulling the matching vest over her head. The house was still quiet, and that's exactly how she tried to remain when she tiptoed to the door, gingerly tugging it open and listening out.

Nothing.

Everyone must be asleep. Creeping along the corridor, she kept to the very edges of the steps as she made her way down them, preventing them from creaking. When she was back in the hallway she'd stood in earlier, she wandered along the corridor, peering into the rooms. It looked like there was a living area, a huge room with two big brown leather sofas and a couple of matching chairs, along with numerous beanbags scattered around infront of a large television. Next, she passed what looked like a games room. She could just about make out a computer and a football table, and on the far side of the room, another television. The next door she came to had a plaque attached to it which read 'office', and when she tried the door, it was locked.

The kitchen was right at the end of the corridor, and tonight, it was the only room she was interested in. She walked around the long, rectangle table, and made straight for the kettle. It took her a while to locate which cupboards contained the mugs, with the kitchen being such a ridiculous size. She wondered how many kids actually lived here, there seemed so much noise earlier, yet she had only counted twelve wooden chairs around the table.

"You're awake!"

Carla gasped, dropping the teaspoon she was holding, which clattered loudly in the sink.

"Jesus Christ!" She hissed, whipping around with her hand over her rapidly beating heart. "Is that in your job description? Giving the kids heart attacks? You scared the crap out of me!" Carla's eyes narrowed coolly, keeping her guards firmly in place with her tough exterior. She'd expected Frank, but that wasn't the man she was looking at now. This one was much younger. He looked like he'd just climbed out of bed, with his dark brown hair sticking up in odd directions. His eyes were also dark, but they were bright and warm, and had a sort of mischievous twinkle when he smiled. It took her a few seconds to register he was smiling directly at her, laughing at her last comment.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Here, let me make you that drink. Hot chocolate?"

Carla watched him walk towards the counter she was stood at, her eyes falling to watch the way his simple, t-shirt pulled against his taut, toned form, the brilliant whiteness of it emphasising the dark tone to his skin. She swallowed hard, and gave a small nod, suddenly rendered speechless.

"I'm Peter, by the way. You got my note, didn't you?"

"Yeah, thanks. You already know my name…"

Peter held out his hand, giving her another warm smile.

"Yeah, you're my Carla." Carla held out her own hand and as he took it, he gave it a small squeeze, his eyes meeting hers once more. Her stomach involuntarily flipped and she held his gaze a little longer than she normally would a complete stranger, before forcing composure once more.

"Er, your Carla?" She kinked her eyebrow, letting go of his hand and folding her arms across her chest, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"So to speak, yes. You're in my little group of munchikins."

"I'm a munchikin, am I?"

"Well, you are pretty small." His tone was teasing and playful, and Carla instantly felt as ease.

"Cheek!" She shook her head a little, a smirk appearing across her lips. "You're not exactly a giant, yourself. You best watch yourself, Peter, your job is to make me feel all comfortable, which clearly means you're at my beck and call."

"Oh, is that so? Have I got myself a little diva?" Peter grinned, turning to pour the now boiled water into a mug, after adding a generous amount of hot chocolate powder.

"You say that like you think I'm easy to handle." Carla couldn't help but eye the dark patterns tattooed across his bicep, nor could she fail to notice how the sleeve of his t-shirt was strained, struggling to contain the muscle.

"Tell you what, darlin', why don't you go make yourself comfortable in the living room and I'll bring your drink to you? Then you can tell me just how much my work is going to be cut out. Ey, I'll even bring you the bar of chocolate I was saving for myself in the fridge." Peter turned to her and gave a little nod towards the direction of the living room, flashing her another one of his warm smiles.

Carla could have happily stayed there, rooted to the spot, just watching him, transfixed, trying to take him in. She'd never known someone make her feel so at ease within less than five minutes of being in their presence. They were already joking together, as if they'd known one another for much longer. As if they'd been friends a long time. Instead, she gave another small nod, letting another playful smirk cross her lips, leaving him with one last comment as she headed for the living room.

"You're learning."


	3. Chapter 3

Carla felt her eyelids beginning to droop and her now empty mug was gently prised from her hands. She had been on the sofa with Peter for a while, now, not talking about anything in particular. She had mainly asked questions about him, not having any desire to delve into her own past.

"I think it's time you went to bed, love," Peter whispered, taking her hand to help her up from the sofa in her tired state.

Carla allowed herself to be lead upstairs by Peter, making her way along the corridor until she was outside her own room.

"I'll see you in the morning, Carla. Sweet dreams…"

Carla gave a small nod in response, swallowing hard as she entered her room. Truth was, she felt sick again, now she no longer had his company. She was back in the strange room alone, with nothing to think about other than the fact she was now stuck in care. She had no family. What was going to happen when eh care home chucked her out? She'd have to fend for herself. She was completely on her own.

It took her a few seconds to register she was crying again, as she sank back into the comfortable but strange bed, which smelt fresh and clean, though she wondered if she actually missed the musky smoky smell of her own bedcovers.

Carla had now been at the home for a few weeks and each night wasn't any better than the last. She was fine during Peter's company, she felt like she could handle it, like being there wasn't such a bad thing. But alone, she broke down. She couldn't take the fact that no-one wanted her. She couldn't take the torment at school, the way she'd been humiliated when the school secretary had interrupted her class and asked her to come to the office about changing her address, now that she lived in the Home. She couldn't block out the whispers that had gone around class, other kids sneering at how her mother had chosen crack over her kids.

She was curled up in bed, crying herself to sleep for the second night running. Her knees were against her chest and she was huddled up under the duvet, face pressed into the pillow to muffle the sounds.

It was late, and Peter was just coming up to bed himself. It had taken him ages to settle one of the little ones down and as he reached the top of the stairs, he sighed to himself. He could hear muffled little whimpers, and assumed the little girl he'd struggled to settle earlier was awake again. Although on reaching the bedroom, he found the door slightly ajar, and the little girl was sound asleep, the teddy he'd tucked into the covers with her had long since fallen to the floor. He listened out intently as he carried on walking, pausing when he was directly outside the bedroom that Carla slept him. He realised exactly who was upset. Tapping lightly on the door, he called her name, softly, before turning the handle and pushing it open. As soon as he entered, the little whimpers stopped, and Carla tugged the covers over her head. She refused to let anyone see her in such a state.

"Carla?"

"Go away." She attempted to sound fierce, but her voice trembled and another little sob escaped her lips.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Peter stepped into her room, allowing the door to slide shut. He flicked on the bedside lamp, though Carla protested.

"No! Turn it off. I don't want you to see me like this. I don't want you here. Just go away, leave me alone."

Peter quickly shut the light off, though made no attempt to leave the room. Instead, he shuffled over to her and perched on the edge of the bed, resting his hand on the mound that was her, bundled up under the duvet.

"I can't help you unless you tell me," He slowly pulled back the corner of the duvet, and now that they were in the dark, Carla let him, knowing her tearstained face would be hidden.

"You can't help me. You can't change what I am."

"What do you mean?" Peter frowned, confused.

"We're the forgotten kids, nobody wants us! No one would miss us if we disappeared. No one cares…I'm going to be nothing. I'm going to turn out just like her." Carla choked, attempting to wipe the never ending flow of tears.

"Oh, sweetheart…" Peter opened his arms to her, and she was unable to stop herself from falling into his embrace, nuzzling into his strong, warm chest. "We want you here, Carla, I want you here. Because I care about you, I want you safe. And now you're here, I know you're safe." He whispered, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Carla was clutching hold of his shirt, the material wrapped tightly around her fingers. She wanted to believe him, he spoke so sincerely, she wanted to believe more than anything that he cared about her.

"It's your job, that's why. You're paid to care."

"Carla, darling, there isn't enough money in the world that'd make up for putting up with you…" He teased, lightly, and despite everything, Carla let out a half laugh, though it was mixed in with another little sob. "Of course I care about you, money is irrelevant. " He gently cupped her cheek, brushing the tears away from her face. "You are a very intelligent, talented and beautiful girl, Carla. And I know you're going to be successful, you're not going to be 'nothing'."

Carla couldn't help a few more tears trickle down her cheeks at his words, though she wasn't sure they were entirely from being upset. She'd never had anyone believe in her before. No one had reassured her the way he had. She felt her heart flutter slightly when he described her as 'beautiful', and cuddled closer into his chest.

"Do you mean it, Peter? You're not just saying all this to make me feel better? Because I'm not a little kid, I'd rather just know if you think I'm a complete headcase, a total waste of space."

Peter shook his head, firmly, his arms tightening around her, holding her so close that she was almost in his lap and she relished the comfort her provided.

"I do mean it, with every fibre of my being." He ran his hand over her dark locks, toying with a strand, twirling it between his fingers. Carla relaxed under his touch, settling against him with her eyes closed.

"Get some sleep, sweetheart…" Peter pressed a very brief, light kiss to the top of her head, before attempting to climb out of bed.

"No, no, Peter, please…Please can you just stay with me for a little bit? Just until I fall to sleep?" She clung onto his shirt a little more tightly, and Peter didn't think he could bear to leave her when she asked in such a vulnerable manner.

Peter sank back down against the pillows, climbing into bed properly. Carla gave a relieved little sigh and positioned herself against his chest once more, curling the rest of her body into him for comfort.

"I'll be here for as long as you need me to be." Peter assured her, gently ruffling her hair once more, before pulling the blanket up over them both. "Are you warm enough?"

Carla gave a small nod, and it wasn't long before her breaths became drawn out and rhythmic, finally able to clear her mind of the plagued thoughts, that seemed to take over whenever she was left on her own, and fall to sleep with ease.


	4. Chapter 4

"Carla, can I have a word, please?"

Carla glanced up from the magazine she was reading, a slight smile forming across her lips. Peter was stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his arms folded across his chest.

"Seeing as it's you, I guess I could spare a minute or two." Carla answered, considerably brighter now Peter was there. She'd grown to like him, a lot more than she should. Though she was now completely settled in the home, she still spent the nights when Peter was on duty cuddled up with him and the nights when he was away, she spent pining for him. Not being able to pinpoint the exact moment when the sound of his voice had started to make her heart flutter made her wonder when she'd suddenly started to become so dependent on him. It was stupid, she knew, to sit there at school (when she bothered going in; preferring to sit in town with her friends) counting down the hours until she could go back to the place she had to live and see Peter. Every time she walked through the door, she'd go and find him, knowing he'd shoot her that smike which looked as though he was so pleased to see her, and for a moment she could be fooled into thinking he felt something of what she did.

"Will you come through to the office?"

"Sounds ominous…" Carla frowned, following him through into the staff office, flinging herself down in one of the office chairs and spinning around on it. Peter closed the door behind them and sat down opposite her, stopping her chair from whirling around with a gentle sigh.

"I had a phone call from school today. They told me you haven't been turning up."

Carla rolled her eyes, relived that it was something so trivial to her.

"Oh, come on, Peter. You know I hate it. I don't see why I should bother with it, when as soon as I'm sixteen, I'm getting a job and earning some proper money." Carla shuffled forward on her chair, resting her arms either side of the one Peter was sat on.

"But you can't just skip classes as and when…" Peter started, knowing exactly what Carla would try to do next.

"Well, they won't know I'm skipping if you cover for me. It can be our little secret…" She fluttered her eyelashes at him, her teeth sinking into her lip as she shot him an innocent little smile.

She did this all the time. Wrapped him around her little finger. Usually it worked, for reasons Peter had yet to admit to himself. He gave her so much more leeway. Compared to the rest of the kids, she was almost spoilt. Peter tried to convince himself it was because she'd had it tough and that she was his only main responsibility in the Home. She was the only one he had to give full support to.

"You don't get how serious this is, do you?" Peter mumbled, not quite being able to reach her eyes.

Carla shrugged and sat back slightly, pressing her lips together before speaking. "It's only Maths. And sometimes Science. And maybe a couple of ICT lessons."

"But…This looks bad on me, too. I mean, it's important that you go to school, of course it is. But it's not only going to affect you, it's going to have implications on me. They'll think I can't support you, that I can't keep you 'under control'."

"That's because you can't," Carla giggled, crossing one leg over the other. "You're a rubbish carer, I get away with murder." She was teasing him, even though there was truth in her words.

"Yeah, I know…And they're already talking about whether I'm fit for this job. Mentoring you. They might take you off me, give you a new mentor. And if it carries on, it'll look like Frank can't keep the kids under control and chances are you'll be sent somewhere else."

Carla's eyes widened in horror, her mouth falling open slightly.

"What? You'll get rid of me? Is that what you want!?"

"Of course it's not what I want! I'm saying, that's what'll happen. That's why we need to try and work something out. Is there something bothering you at school? Something serious?"

"Yeah, I get seriously bored. It's a serious waste of time but, ironically, the teachers are a joke."

"Carla, come on. Take me seriously, I'm not a teacher."

Carla sighed once more, a tiny little pout forming across her lips. "I just don't like going. But I will. For you." She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You're like a five year old, chucking a tantrum about school." Peter teased, causing Carla to narrow her eyes and glare at him.

"Sometimes, I don't like you, Barlow."

"Oh?" Peter stood up from his chair, and seized Carla's, proceeding to pull her around the office on it, occasionally whirling it around.

"Peter, stop!" Carla cried, though she was giggling manically. "I'm going to fall!"

"This is an office, not a playground. You know, sometimes you are worse than the kids, Peter." Frank's voice came from the door way. He was leaning against the door frame, his eyebrow raised as he eyed the pair somewhat suspiciously.

"Sorry, boss." Peter tried to keep the amusement from his voice, though was unable to bite back his grin. "We were actually just about to go and do some of this homework that Carla hasn't turned in, weren't we Carla?"

"No. Nooooo!" Carla groaned, reluctantly getting up from her seat. "I haven't got any."

"Nice try." Peter laughed, guiding her past Frank. "But I think I recall something about a science sheet on balancing equations and the start of an English essay on how some poet creates conflict in 'Search for my Tongue'. "

"There goes my Friday night." Carla grumbled, picking up her magazine from the sofa as she passed it.

"I very much doubt you'll find any scientific equations in there. " Peter swiped the magazine from her hand and flung it back down on the sofa.

"Peter! God, you're so…Annoying. Maybe I wish you weren't my mentor. I bet no one else has to be made to do homework on Friday!"

"No, they're not made to do it, because the majority of them do it of their own accord. But fine, you do what you like, darling. The next home they send you to might not be as lenient as this one, though."

"You keep hinting at getting rid of me. Why don't I make it easier? I'll just pack my bags and go. You won't be able to stop me. You can't force me to be here." Carla turned away and made her way upstairs, making sure she stamped her feet into the carpet as hard as she could, slamming the door of her bedroom.

"Carla!" Peter raced up after her and was met with her door slamming in his face. He sighed quietly, listening for a moment. He could hear her bustling around, and after getting no answer when he tapped on the door, pushed it open anyway. Carla had her suitcase wide open on her bed, and was throwing it clothes, shoes and other items randomly into the case.

"Carla, what're you doing?"

"Leaving." She snapped, without looking up at him.

"And where will you go?"

Carla was about to retort that she'd go back home. But she couldn't. Because she wasn't wanted at home. Otherwise she wouldn't have ended up here in the first place. So where would she go? She didn't have any other family, none that she knew of, anyway, and most of her friends' parents disapproved of the troublesome girl from 'that rough estate'. She didn't have anywhere to go. No one in the world wanted her.

"Hey…Hey, don't get upset…"

Carla hadn't even realise that her face had creased, that her eyes and filled and tears had spilled over her cheeks.

"Thanks for reminding me that no one wants me…"

"That's not true," Peter sat down on the edge of her bed, pushing the suitcase away to make a space beside him, before gesturing for Carla to sit down.

"You were on about sending me away."

"I wasn't, Carla…I'm trying to keep you from getting sent away. That's why I were pushing you to work, I wasn't getting on at you. I'd hate it if you were taken away from me."

Carla's stomach flipped at his words and she couldn't help but lean her head against his shoulder. She slid her hand across his stomach, her breath hitching slightly when they dipped and rose over the prominent muscle through his t-shirt, and wrapped her arm around him in one of their increasingly intimate cuddles. Automatically, Peter's own arm went around her waist, his hand resting on her hip. She glanced down at his hand, which was inches away from the waistband of her school skirt. The thought created a tingling sensation in her stomach, and she tried to shake it from her mind.

"I'm sorry…" She murmured, letting her eyes flutter shut, content with his close proximity.

"What for?" Peter let his chin rest on the top of her head and glanced down at her. She looked so much calmer, content, her full lips pulled into a little pout. How soft would they be pressed up against his? Peter froze. Where the hell had that thought come from!? She was a kid! But, he'd never seen her in that way. When they were together, he'd not felt as though she was one of the care kids. She'd just been Carla. The girl who he wanted to help because she'd had it so tough, it wasn't fair. She didn't deserve it. He never felt like he'd been speaking to someone significantly younger, because she didn't act it. They messed about, yeah, and sometimes they'd act childish, but he was just as bad as her. They got on so well, it was like they were never meant to be strangers and Peter had always told himself that the relationship they had together, and the feelings he had for her were entirely older brotherly. Up until now. Until that thought had managed to somehow lodge itself in his head. It was so wrong.

"For being a pain, for making things difficult for you." Carla whispered, stroking the material of his shirt with her fingertips.

"I thought you liked making things difficult for me? It's all part of the fun, right?" Peter felt his skin goose-bump under the cotton.

"Yeah, I like winding you up, but I mean, with school…I don't want to get you into trouble and I don't want to be sent away…"

"Well, then, let's not let it come to that, yeah? As long as you stop skipping school and you sort of keep on track, we won't have anything to worry about." Peter assured her, absentmindedly twisting a strand of her hair around his fingers.

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart." Peter smiled, allowing Carla to take his hand and bring it up, forcing him to form an 'X' across his chest with his fingertip.

"Well, in that case…" Carla sighed, pulling away from him somewhat reluctantly. She reached down under the bed, fumbling around for a moment, before seizing a couple of books. She let them fall heavily into Peter's lap, smirking when he let out an over the top wince.

"You can help me with my homework."


	5. Chapter 5

"Carla, wake up…Carla!"

"Hmm…What time is it?" Carla murmured, unable to open her eyes fully. She didn't remember dropping off, she'd just rested her eyes for a few seconds…

"It's half five in the morning."

"Urgh . Go away." Carla grumbled, pulling the duvet over her head.

"No, come on, we're going somewhere."

Reluctantly, Carla sat up, pushing her hair away from her face as Peter's came into focus. He had a big grin plastered across his face, he had clearly enjoyed waking her up at this hour. He was already dressed in a pair of jeans and black t-shirt, which she didn't fail to notice strained across his chest. She could smell toothpaste and the scent of his aftershave, telling her he'd already showered.

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

"I hate you, sometimes, Peter. You really annoy me."

Laughing once more, Peter reached out to tuck a strand of her long, dark hair behind her ear, before tipping her chin.

"I know, I'm terrible, aren't I? Now get ready, and meet me downstairs when you're done. I'll have some breakfast for you." He pressed a swift kiss to her forehead and was out of her room, his footsteps growing faint as he made his way downstairs.

Carla's stomach stirred with excitement. No longer tired, she slipped out of bed and wandered into the bathroom, peering at her pale reflection. She didn't want to shower, knowing it would take her ages to sort her hair out if she did. Instead, she had a quick wash and cleaned her teeth, shivering as she made her way back into her bedroom.

She picked up her hair brush and started to tug it through her hair, wincing as it tore through the tangles. She swept it to one side, letting it spill over one shoulder and fall down to her waist. She was still shivering, the heating hadn't been switched on yet, and early mornings always felt colder.

Finally, she was heading downstairs, a sweet smell coming from the kitchen making her stomach aware of how hungry she was. She had decided on a pair of black skinny jeans and a long sleeved thin jumper, embellished with little studs that formed a skull shape. She placed the leather jacket she was carrying over her arm onto the back of the kitchen chair when she walked in, before flopping down on it.

"Something smells nice."

Peter was stood over the stove, though turned to her when she spoke, the childish little grin of his spreading across his face. Carla met his eyes and giggled, pointing at his nose.

"You've got flour all over, you child."

"Child? I'll have you know I'm a semi-professional chef." He picked up two plates from the counter and carried t hem over to the table, sliding one over to her. "There you go, blueberry pancakes. The best you'll have ever tasted, no doubt."

"Bighead." Carla grinned, pulling the plate closer, before looking up at him, her eyebrows raised.

"What?" Peter sat down next to her, very aware of how his shoulder brushed against hers.

"They're heart shaped?"

"They're sweethearts, like you."

"Oh my god, Peter!" Carla burst into another fit of laughter, shaking her head slightly. "You're such an adorable goofball." She couldn't help but turn to the side and slip her arms around his neck, pulling him close for a cuddle. "Thankyou.." She whispered, her head resting on his shoulder.

"For being a goofball?" Automatically, he returned the cuddle, running his fingertips in light circles over her back. He couldn't deny it any longer. Barriers had definitely been crossed. The constant cuddles, the touching, the kisses…He couldn't kid himself that they were completely platonic, not when they created little sparks of excitement and made the hairs on his body stand on end. Ever since she'd stepped through the door, it had been different. She was the oldest one there, and at first Peter had thought that they got on so well because she was closer to his age than any of the other kids, and it was nice to have conversations that weren't about cartoon characters or collectible fire engines. But there was no denying the feelings he had for her now, as much as he tried to tell himself it was wrong, they were there, and it scared him. The incredible thing was, that Carla seemed to reciprocate all of the little affectionate gestures, she seemed to want to spend time with him just as much as he wanted to spend time with her.

"No, for looking after me, for making me laugh…For being you." She sighed, stroking over his hair, her hand coming to rest at the back of his neck. With new found confidence, she moved her other hand to his cheek, lightly caressing over his freshly shaved skin, though there was still a tiny hint of dark stubble. Her eyes came to rest on his lips, and instinctively her tongue flicked out over her own, moisturising them for her next actions. She started to lean towards him, slowly, giving him the chance to pull away. But he didn't. Carla's breath stopped at the first touch of their lips, she could feel her heart pounding in her ears, and at some point she had closed her eyes.

Peter was frozen, his head screaming at him to pull away, right now. Pull away before things got out of hand. But they were already out of hand. They couldn't get any more out of hand. That's probably why he started to respond to the kiss, his lips working expertly against Carla's, which were somewhat more timid, yet seemed just as eager. Of course they'd be timid, she might not even have done this before. She was a lot younger than him, she was just a kid…

_She's just a kid!_ Peter pulled away abruptly, his mouth hanging open slightly in shock at what he had just allowed to happen.

"I…I'm sorry." He stuttered, shaking his head slightly. He moved back, trying to put as much distance between them as he could, whilst been sat down on the chair next to her.

"I'm not." Carla spoke softly, her insides still tingling from the sensation of Peters lips up against hers. She'd been wanting to do that for too long.

"It's wrong…It can't happen, I shouldn't have let it happen." Peter stood up, pushing his hands through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts. Which were constantly firing from two opposite sides. _It's right, you clearly have feelings for eachother, but it's wrong, because there's ten years between you and she's just a girl._ But she's not 'just' a girl. She could be 'his' girl.

"Well, it didn't feel wrong, it felt right. I like you, Peter."

"You can't like me, I'm your social worker."

"Trainee social worker." Carla corrected, shrugging slightly, as though it was insignificant. "You're my friend, you're the one who's there for me, you're the one who looks after me, you're…Everything to me."

Peter pressed his palm against his head, shaking it slightly. "No, Carla, I'm not…I can't be. Do you have any idea what would happen if people found out? Do you know how wrong it would actually be? You're so young.."

"But I'm not!" Carla snapped, jumping up from her own chair. " I'm almost sixteen, and I've dealt with what most people couldn't even deal with in their thirties! I'm not a naïve kid who doesn't know anything about life, because believe me, I do. And so far what I've found out about life is that it's very disappointing, that most lads just want a quick snog and a grope down some seedy alley. You're nothing like that Peter…You're the opposite of everything that I'd resigned myself to…"

"There's more people out there who are like me, Carla. And you have plenty of time to find the right person. But it's not me, it can't be me." Peter's words went against everything he felt, but he wasn't thinking about himself, he was thinking about the consequences of what would happen if he allowed his heart to take over his head.

"Don't you like me in that way? And don't tell me 'it's not you it's me', or 'you're beautiful, but', or any other excuse. Just answer me, properly. Do you like me the way I like you?"

"Yes." There was no point in lying to her, and even if he wanted to, he couldn't, not to Carla.

Carla was walking towards him, taking his hands in her own, squeezing them gently, before wrapping them around her waist.

"I know what I want, Peter."

Peter found himself drawn into her gaze, his mouth suddenly becoming very dry at their close proximity, at the way his hands were holding her.

_Snap out of it, she's a child!_

"Carla, stop." Peter removed his hands from her and took another step back, his tone firmer than before. "You're just a kid."

Carla opened her mouth to speak, but her eyes had filled with tears and she knew if she let out any sound, she'd break down. Humiliated, she grabbed her coat and flew out of the back door, running down the path.

"Carla! Carla ,wait!"

But she couldn't wait, she needed to get as far away as she could. Her heart was pounding as she flew down the street, around corners, barely taking notice of where she was going, just knowing that she needed to put as much distance between herself and Peter as she could. When she could run no longer, she slumped against a wall, in some back street, gasping for breath. She was shivering, having not even stopped to put on her coat when she'd grabbed it. She threw it over her shoulders and folded her arms, trying to lock in as much heat as she could. It had not long since gotten light, the air was still heavy with morning moisture.

So, where the hell was she going to go, now?


	6. Chapter 6

_A/n: Huge apologies for my lack of updates. I've had so much work on with college and stuff, plus I've had exams to prepare for. I'm still pretty busy at the moment, but I'm putting off re-doing coursework etc, because I just haven't got the heart for it. I'm so fed up of work already, that I needed to take a break and do something different, even if it means I'm going to have some serious catching up to do at some point! So, here's the sixth chapter, and I'll try and keep on top of this and the rest of my fics during my next holiday, which isn't too far away! I don't have exams to revise for this holiday, which is a bonus, and hopefully I won't have too much work to do! _

"Come on, Carla, where are you?'' Peter sighed to himself, his hands clutching hold of the steering wheel. He'd been driving around her run-down estate for the best part of an hour, his window already adorned with a pale yellow splash-mark, the consequence of a bottle of what he hoped was cheap cider (the other option being something which made him gag with disgust) being thrown at his window by a group of older lads, who'd been hanging around on the corner. He was just glad he'd put his window up beforehand, having wanted to block out the bitter, burning, clearly –not-legal smell from the roll-up they were passing around.

It was just past seven, and Peter had had to explain to Frank that Carla had gone off early in the morning to support a friend. He'd made up an excuse of needing to go into town, before picking her up, and left the house, leaving Frank to sort the school runs out. It was dangerous to lie, but it'd be even more dangerous to let onto Frank that Carla had run away, and the reason behind her disappearance. Now he just hoped that he'd be able to find her. He wasn't looking forward to notifying the police if he couldn't.

And, though his job was at risk, and his future career, and his good nature, he was still more scared of where Carla had got to. He knew how dangerous it was for her to have come back home, and he couldn't think of anywhere else she'd run to. He was terrified for her safety, and he'd suffer the consequences if it meant that she turned up safe and well. Would he really be willing t potentially give up his career in return for her safety? Yes, of course he would.

Because he loved her.

_I love her?_ Peter tried the thought out in his head, it seemed alien and he knew it was wrong. But no matter how much he tried to convince himself that he was disgusting, he couldn't help but _feel_ as though it was right. Would be have been so bad if she was twenty, and he was thirty? No, no one would probably care or even notice such a significant age gap.

_Right, come on, Peter. Think. Where would she go? _

Surely she wouldn't have gone back to her house? He'd drove past it once already, but there hadn't been any sign of her. It had been boarded up, clumsily, and the garden was currently being used as a public dumpster. Old take-away cartons decorated the balding grass, and broken glass glittered on the pathway. After parking up on the corner, he decided that he'd check around the back. He couldn't see why anyone would want to sit out in the garden when it was in such a state, but he was desperate, now. Desperate to see her safe.

Picking his way through the greasy cartons, he made his way around to the back, gingerly placing his foot in front of the other, every step cautious after spotting one or two used needles hiding between the chunks of grass. He really hoped she hadn't been here.

Arriving through to the back, he found that although the back door was boarded, it had been kicked in so that the whole of the bottom half was missing. He was able to crouch down and peer inside, frowning at the sight he was met with. In what appeared to be the kitchen , there was more rubbish, more prominently beer, and the smell of the substances used around the estate was even stronger. He was about to turn away, when he spotted a figure in the corner. He was clearly male, passed out, breathing heavy. He had a bottle of cheap vodka in his hand, which was half empty, and was wrapped up in a dirty blanket. So the place was being used as some sort of druggie-squat?

About to turn away, Peter glanced once more around the kitchen, a small glint catching his eye. A watch? Why did that look so familiar? And why would a watch like that be left on the table, un-swiped by crackheads to were desperate for m-

_Carla's watch!_

In one swift movement, Peter was through the door, his heart pounding at the thought of Carla being in the house, where anyone could just come and go. He practically kicked the passed-out figure out of his way as he proceeded to the hallway, having to pick his way through more used needles. A small clatter made him turn around, glancing down to where the noise had come from. After kicking the body on the floor, a small penknife had slid from his pocket and rattled to the floor, spinning slightly as it slid across the filthy kitchen lino.

He made straight for the stairs, taking them two at a time in his haste to get to the top. He slowed slightly to catch his breath, his heart still unnaturally fast. Carla had to be there if her watch was. He pushed the doors open in turn, a bathroom, a main bedroom, both empty, aside from the clutter. When he got to the final room, he clamped his hand around the sticky door handle and pushed, straining slightly at the resistance. If it was this stiff, would Carla have been able to open it, anyway? Another push, and he felt the door budge slightly. He suddenly realised that it wasn't stiff at all, something heavy was blocking the door.

With some effort, he created a small gap which allowed him to squeeze through, and he found that a tall, dark wooden wardrobe had been pushed over and had landed across the door. And then he saw her.

She was curled up in the corner, seemingly fast asleep, her leather jacket over her shoulders. She still looked blue with cold, and when Peter laid his hand on her arm, her skin was icy.

"Let go!'' Eyes flying open, she snapped her arm back from his grasp, instinctively kicking out at the intruder.

"Carla, it's me!" He caught her flailing leg, before shuffling closer, his arms instantly wrapping the young girl up in a crushing hug.

"I can't believe you're alright…Have you any idea how much you scared me!? What are you doing here? I've been terrified!" He was breathless with relief, and though he wanted to be a little angry with her, he couldn't find it in himself. Instead, he let her go for a brief second, slipping his own coat from his shoulders and wrapped the warmed garment around her shivering form.

"You're not hurt, are you? Did anyone do anything to you?" He brought his hand up to her cheek, stroking over her cheekbone, his brow still furrowed with worry.

Somewhat sleepily, Carla shook her head, automatically leaning into Peters touch, the goose bumps that had formed over her skin really were from being cold, this time.

"Don't do that to me, Carla…Ever again…"

"How did you find me?"

"I came to check the house…I saw your watch. How come it's in the kitchen?"

"There were people here, this morning." She murmured, shifting her position so that she was over his lap, her head resting against his chest. "They said I couldn't come in unless I had some 'stuff'. I didn't even have any money, so I made out like that watch was worth something."

"But, you hardly ever take it off…Isn't it worth something?"

"Not in a money sense. Maybe about twenty quid, but it's the only present I remember getting off my mum, so it's sort of a novelty."

Peter held her closer, the more he heard, the more his heart broke for her. His natural instinct was the need to comfort her, help her, make everything better for her. Bringing other hand up, he held her face gently, leaning in until their foreheads brushed together.

"I'm so sorry, if you felt rejected, or embarrassed in any way. That's not what I meant to do, I swear. Just…Promise me, Carla, that you won't run away, again? I was so scared something had happened to you…"

"I'm not some kid, Peter…I'm almost sixteen. I don't act like a kid, do I?"

"I know you're not, I didn't mean to sound patronising or anything. It's just…Can't you imagine what people would say? I mean, maybe…Maybe if I wasn't your care worker then…Maybe we could…I don't even know, Carla." He sighed, shaking his head slightly. "I shouldn't feel this way."

"Why does it matter what people think? When I'm sixteen, you won't even be my social worker. I'll be able to do what I want, I can go to a half-way house, get a job…We could…Tell me how you feel." The way she was looking at him, her eyes wide and hopeful, her cold hands resting against his chest, the way her lips were pushed into that tempting pout. All he could think about was the kiss they'd shared that morning, and subconsciously, he started leaning in closer, his head tilted slightly.

Delighted with his reaction, Carla slid her hands from his chest to his shoulders, wrapping her arms around his neck to coax him closer, allowing her eyes to flutter shut as their lips met for the second time that morning.


	7. Chapter 7

"Shouldn't you be starting that homework?"

"Don't you dare spoil it, Peter." Carla warned, giving him a harsh prod in the chest.

Peter had decided to see Carla, in secret, as unwise as he knew this was. Not only was this seriously jeopardising his career, but he knew there was a chance he'd face charges, despite the fact that he'd put serious limits on the physical side of their relationship. Although, Peter put this partly down to the fact that it was impossible to find a few minutes completely alone, with no risk of being disturbed. It had only been a few weeks, but Peter already considered the bond he had with her to be a lot more intense than any of the other relationships he'd had, which seemed trivial, compared to the way he felt about Carla. It scared him, a lot of the time. To know that she, in the eyes of the law, was still a child, and she'd probably had none of this experience herself.

Today, however, was one of those wonderful, rare occasions, in which Frank had decided to drag the gang out to some tacky pizza place, with rubbish arcade games and a smelly ball pit, considering it a treat. Instantly, Carla had feigned illness, stating she felt sick and couldn't possible stomach a greasy pizza, knowing that if she didn't go, Peter would have to stay with her.

Carla had been completely content, curled up in bed with Peter, her head resting on his bare chest, fingertips tracing over one of the tattoo's on the left side. She had meant to have been doing a late essay, while Peter had a session in the garage, where various pieces of gym equipment had been stashed. However, with her room door open, Carla had caught sight of Peter walking past, clad in only a pair of boxers. Her mouth had fallen open at the sight of his broad, well defined chest, shining with water droplets from his shower. Swallowing hard, she'd averted her eyes to the way the waistband of his boxers rested on his sculpted lower torso, feeling her own skin burn, wondering whether that was lust.

"Peter…" She'd called him before she could stop herself. He was stood in her doorway, one arm slightly above his head as he let it rest against the doorframe. Slowly, Carla pushed herself up from her bed, where she had just began to attempt to read the title of the essay she was supposed to be writing. Instead, she was making her way towards the door, her eyes firmly fixed on the way droplets of water ran down Peter's tanned skin. She needed to touch him. Peter's muscles tensed, as the tips of her fingers stroked down his chest, her touch scorching against his skin. His arms slid around her waist and he leant down to meet her as she stretched on her toes, allowing her lips to connect with his. It started off slow, sensual, his lips working with hers, though it soon became more forceful, with Carla leading, her lips starting to push against is with more force. His hand became entangled in her hair and they blindly made their way over to the bed, falling against it without breaking contact. The tip of Peter's tongue flicked against Carla's lower lip, and she let out a little gasp, which provided further access for Peter.

This was one of the most intimate kisses they had shared yet, and Carla felt an unfamiliar tingling sensation in the lower part of her stomach as her tongue connected with Peter's, causing her to moan softly into him. She didn't even realise her hands had made their way lower down Peter's body, and were now stroking down over his hipbone, her hand just nudging the elastic waistband of his boxers.

"Carla, wait..." Peter was breathless when he reluctantly broke the kiss, moving his hand down to prevent hers from going any further. "We can't…"

"But I want to."

"I know you do, and…I want to do this just as much as you, but we can't…Not yet."

"Why not?" Carla glanced up at him, her eyes dark, her lips red and swollen from the heated kiss they'd been caught up in.

"Because we don't know when they're going to be back, for starters. And…You're young, Carla." He didn't want to be sensible in the slightest, just the way she was looking at him was causing a stir in the lower area of his body.

"Don't bring my age into this, I know what I want."

"But it's illegal, Carla. And…I just want you to be sure. It's only been a few weeks…"

"I've liked you for a lot longer. It just took me a while to act on it." She mumbled, bringing on hand up to rest on his cheek, her fingers brushing along his just shaven skin. "Please…"

"I'm sorry…Don't look at me like that, Carla. You know, it's hard to me to resist you the best of times. Let alone when you're sat on top of me, telling me you want to do things that I've only dreamt of, so far."

"Have you been having dirty dreams about me, Barlow?" She giggled, leaning close once more, her forehead lightly touching his.

Peter shrugged slightly, trying not to appear embarrassed. "Well…"

"Let me make them come true…" She whispered, touching another kiss to his lips, softer this time.

"No. Not yet. Don't get mad at me, just listen." Sitting up, he took both of her hands in his, lacing their fingers together.

"It's not just your age, or the fact that we might get caught, although they are both kind of important. It's just…I want it to be perfect for us. I'd like you to be able to be at my place, where we'll have all night together, undisturbed. That way, I know I can make it special, and I can be with you all night, afterwards. We'd be able to fall asleep together and wake up together…"

Carla gave a small, slow nod, taking a few breaths to calm her body down. She felt a rush of affection at his words, understanding now why he'd said no. He was perfect, the sort of bloke that only comes about in films or books or fantasies. She should be thankful, and she was, that he was nothing like a quick snog behind the bike shed with schoolboys desperately trying to grope at her chest, pathetically fancying their chances.

So now they were here, enjoying their limited time together. She'd almost drifted off, due to the way one hand was teasing through her hair, the other drawing gentle patterns across her side. Only he was trying to turn back into her social worker again, and she wasn't having it.

"Sorry, I'm just saying…I don't want to be the one holding you back from your schoolwork, getting you into trouble."

"I think we're in enough trouble as it is, don't you?" Carla smirked, glancing up at him with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

"Point taken. I guess a little longer wouldn't hurt." He murmured, having had no desire for Carla to leave his arms, anyway. Carla wriggled further up his chest, tilting her head upwards as she searched for his lips with her own. Even the softest of kisses caused a gentle flutter in her stomach, the effect he had on her was almost like a sickness. He made her weak, but at the same time, she felt her strongest when she was around him.

"Peter…" She whispered, lifting herself slightly, so that she was looking straight into his eyes, her lips pressed together.

"Yeah?" He answered, his hand coming to rest on her cheek, his thumb brushing across her perfectly sculpted cheekbone.

"I love you."

Peter stopped breathing for a moment, trying to register what she had just told him. Weeks, weeks he had wanted to say those words to her, but he had refrained from doing so. He'd not wanted to scare her off, make her feel as though she was getting herself into something too intense. All the time he was silent, Carla was waiting, hardly daring to breathe herself, her eyes wide and searching his, trying to find out exactly how he felt.

"Come here…Come here, Carla.." She found herself crushed against his chest, their limbs tangling together as he wrapped her in a tight embrace, his lips firmly pressing against hers.

"I love you, too." He whispered, between the quick, but tender kisses he was delivering to her lips. "God, I love you, so much."


End file.
